Elder berry syrup

Today I made my first attempt at elder berry syrup.  I have never picked, or even seen, an elder berry for that matter.  I grew up picking chokecherries.   I would watch my parents carefully squeeze the precious juice from these plump little morsels and transform the bitter berry into a sweet, delicious concoction of chokecherry jelly and the highly coveted chokecherry syrup.  So, on my latest outing with Dave, he introduced me to elder berries and all their delicious possibilities.  These tender delicacies grow high in the mountains, usually on a steep incline.  This proved to be somewhat problematic in picking since elder berry picking had not been part of our travel agenda when we left, and the only shoes I had with me were some darling little sandals.  Not particularly conducive to hiking and picking berries in the mountains.  Silly me.  I really should know by now that when planning any outing with Dave, anywhere, I should just assume that mountain climbing, hiking, and sleeping on the ground under the stars will be on the agenda.  Next time.  So,  we trudged up and down the mountain side and filled several bags with juicy berries and brought them home.  They weren't all entirely ripe so we put them in the cool basement for a week to ripen, thus giving me some time to prepare for turning them into syrup.  Of course, like any good student of the 21st century, I first consulted Google to learn as many tricks and tips as I could to help with the process.  Then I began.  First, I stemmed the berries from their little vines until I had a large bowl full of ripe berries.  Then I combined what I learned on the internet with what I learned from watching Mom and Dad make chokecherry syrup and ground, mashed, boiled, and squeezed until all that remained was a pot full of bright, red juice and a bowl full of elder berry mash to feed to the chickens.  As I prepared to add the sugar to sweeten the juice before cooking it, I looked around my kitchen and was mortified!  Why, it looked like Dave had been cooking in there.  There was elder berry juice everywhere!  It was in places that elder berries had never been.  I closed my eyes to the mess, just for a minute, and sweetened the precious liquid and turned on the heat so it could boil.  Then I set to putting my poor kitchen back in order.  I scrubbed juice from the counters, the stove, the side of the fridge, the floor and off the back door.  It didn't take long before it was glistening white and without splashes of purple juice everywhere.  The juice boiled and thickened while I scrubbed my jars clean.  At last it was ready and I carefully poured it into the shiny new jars.  Then I sat back and listened as the canning lids each popped loudly to verify they were sealed.  Who knew that such a tiny little sound could bring such satisfaction.
     The jars are sealed, the kitchen is back in proper order, the chickens are pecking at the elder berry mash and, at the risk of having my family lynch me for this, I dare say my elder berry syrup is almost as delicious as Dad's chokecherry syrup.  The true test will be when I pour it on my sourdough pancakes for breakfast.  Mmmm, my mouth is already watering.